


Daddy's Girl

by vintage1983



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pigtails, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fic, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, The kitchen sink!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-02-23 02:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13180119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage1983/pseuds/vintage1983
Summary: Shameless smut fic in response to reader prompts. Adult content throughout.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lorcas_Tribble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorcas_Tribble/gifts), [LorcaFan69](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=LorcaFan69).



> Kind thanks to all readers, your comments and kudos are always welcome and appreciated. Written as a response to prompt from LorcaFan69 and Lorcas_Tribble, belated Christmas gift to you two. Thanks for the support guys, this wasn't an easy one, it's a new theme for me and I've not done second person before, so I hope that it's ok. Feedback definitely invited on that. 
> 
> To Jason Isaacs, if you find yourself here you may want to reach for the bleach. I am sorry...well not that sorry and on the off chance can do pigtails, will travel... LOL.
> 
> Hope everyone had a nice Christmas. Enjoy! (I own nothing, making no money, disclaimers etc. etc.)

Your purposeful walk stopped dead at the doorway. With a final deep exhale, you announced your presence at the entrance to the ready room, unsure if this was a professional or social call, it was always best to err on the side of caution and assume a business-like demeanour. You’d know soon enough. He made you wait; he tested your resolve, your patience and your limits at every turn and you loved it. The pause was broken and a familiar deep drawl demanded you to come, not for the first time you smirked to yourself.

Lorca stood formally, statesman-like and stern-faced. You detected this was a professional meeting and adjusted accordingly, pushing away the invading images of more intimate moments that made you roll your lower lip between your teeth and threatened to force that wicked smirk to return. You straightened yourself up and cleared your throat knowing your Captain was silently observing you. You tried to hide disappointment as he talked shop, nodding in the right places, responding formally, but even the word ‘Sir’ hung on your lips, made your mouth go dry; he must have noticed. You watched his mouth moving, your gaze drawn to each glimpse of his tongue that evoked powerful memories imprinted on your body in the places it had explored. It required a conscious effort not to let your mouth fall open or allow your tongue to trace across your lips, as you tried not to obviously scan his body squeezed deliciously into that tight, perfectly fitted uniform, or harder still not to succumb to the even more tempting image of him out of it, unashamedly naked. Your final obstacle to maintaining an air of professionalism were those beautiful blue eyes, always alive with the glint of bedevilment, too easy to get lost in. Truthfully you had stopped listening a while ago.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked knowing full well the source of your distraction. He maintained his serious face, but you were sure there was a subtle shift in his expression that hinted at something more interesting to come.

“Yes, Sir,” you answered doing a poor job of concealing your diversion. It took all of your concentration and focus not to tip your head and twirl your hair through your fingers like a besotted school girl.

“You seem…distracted,” he said with intent.

Your breath hitched as he closed the space between you, in what seemed like singular fluid movement. He was behind you now, fingers raking up the back of your neck into your hair, hot breath in your ear. His free hand slid around your waist, the flat of his palm pressing on your stomach, pulling you in hard to dissolve the tiny remaining space between your bodies. Warmth radiated through the fabric of your uniform, the throbbing, dull ache between your thighs you had tried to dismiss was now thrumming too hard to ignore. Each breath was now more ragged than the last and you swallowed audibly.

“Is this distracting you?” he said pressing his arousal into your arse.

A strangled whimper escaped without your consent and you tried fruitlessly to compose yourself.

“Yes, Sir,” you managed finally.

“Good girl,” he said, now softly brushing his thumb across your cheek and down your neck. “I have a special request this evening, if you are available.” His fingers had strayed further, down your collarbone, lightly tracing the outline of your chest and along the curve of your waist to your hip. His voice poured into your ear like warm honey and your knees buckled a little, making you grateful to be pressed so close against his firm body to keep you upright. He knew damn well you were very much available, available now if he had a mind to drag you onto the floor and fuck you there and then.

“Of course, _Sir_ , whatever you ask,” you felt him tense a little as you played wantonly on his title, you knew what he liked, understood perfectly your role in the game and took equal pleasure in relinquishing control.

“Not Sir tonight, sweetheart,” his voiced lowered to almost a whisper, “I want you to call me Daddy.” You sharply pulled in a breath in an uncertain mix of surprise and excitement. It wasn’t what you anticipated, but it made a knot tighten in your stomach and elicited an even deeper yearning between your legs.

“Can you be a _real_ good girl and do that for me?” he breathed, his hand snaking its way across your hip bone, before teasing up your inner thighs and squeezing firmly at their now hot, dampened apex. You let out a deep sigh of approval and tried your best not to falter in your response.

“Yes,” you stumbled, “yes, I can do that…Daddy.” You forced it out, yet it brought an almost overwhelming sense of release, even power, that you would be able to cater so precisely to such a specific need. Gabriel let out a deep moan and thrust his own now very obviously hard cock against you making you fight the urge to buck and writhe against it. He stepped back and turned you to face him. Your cheeks flushed with arousal and shame and you couldn’t help but fix your eyes down on the floor, until he cupped your face and forced you to look him in the eye.

Now staring intently at you, he commanded, “say it again.”

Licking your lips, torn between the mounting wet heat of your cunt and the burning in your cheeks you focused on those eyes, wickedly alive with lust. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl, my good girl,” he said softly stroking your cheek. Your hair had fallen on to your shoulders and he took hold of each bunch in his hands.

“Can you wear it up like this?” he asked almost pleading. “Pigtails?”

He nodded and you enjoyed watching him grit his teeth to hold himself together. “And a skirt, a short one, nothing underneath.”

“Yes,” you paused for effect, to see him squirm just a tiny bit, “Daddy,” you drew it out relishing the impact of the word.

Captain Lorca straightened himself up and produced a wolfish grin.

“Then that will be all,” he said as if he had gone through a dull list of daily orders and spoke of nothing more.

 

 

The shift was endless, most of it spent drifting off into your own lustful thoughts only to be dragged back by the concerned voices of your crewmates asking if you were feeling alright, snapping you brutally back into the present. By the time you made it to your quarters you felt like you might burst, your day been plagued by the incessant ache and heat from your encounter with your Captain, practical matters were constantly interrupted by thoughts lunging from sheer excitement to a feeling bordering on disgust at your own readiness, even glee to play out this new game.

Standing in the shower, you closed your eyes and couldn’t resist dipping your own fingers down to quell the need that had drummed there since your morning meeting. Despite feeling every second of your own acute discomfort for hours on end, it still shocked you to find just how wet it had made you.

Finally, you could lose yourself in those thoughts that had disturbed you all day. Eyes closed you could now allow yourself to picture your complete and willing surrender; it pleased you. That new piece of vocabulary echoed from earlier in the day and the astonishing power it gave you made you tingle. Unable to stop yourself, you whispered it, a rehearsal for later, a little louder, a little less awkward each time until it came with conviction. Your own knowing fingers found your clit and worked between slick folds to bring yourself rapidly to an inevitable orgasm. Steadying yourself against the tiled wall, three things were certain: this was a punishable action; you would confess; and you would be punished.

 

 

You were on time and he let you in quickly and unnoticed. You knew better than to be seen. He scowled and said nothing, eyeing your uniform and the neat crown of braids tightly fixed in. You said nothing either, instead slipping into the bathroom to change. Much as it interrupted the illusion, you both knew it was worth the trade off to keep your visit discrete. Hair carefully unpinned and jammed into the eye-wateringly short black skirt you inspected yourself in the mirror, the reflection looking back felt almost complete. You had brought a simple white shirt that you tied in a knot at the waist and slicked on a deep scarlet lipstick; it wasn’t your usual taste, yet it seemed to finish your look exactly. Conscious you were keeping him waiting and patience was not high on his list of virtues, you took a final look and stepped out into the room.

He stood as sternly as he had before, arms folded across his chest. He let out a deep sigh, superficially of disappointment, but you knew better. You had studied that face enough to recognise the tightening muscles in his strong jawline and know behind the play-acting was silent approval.

“You kept me waiting, you know I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

God, he was good at this and you knew what came next.

“I’m sorry,” you said, bowing your head, fidgeting with the pigtails he had been so specific about.

“Come here,” he demanded. That severe tone gave you a shiver, like an invisible chord pulling at your insides making you all too aware of your nakedness beneath the barely-there skirt.

You approached coyly, still making endless loops around your hair, trying to avoid eye contact and knowing your cheeks were flushed. He snatched your braids away from you with a sharp yank, forcing your head to tip back, making you look at him.

“Sorry, what?” he insisted.

“Sorry…Daddy,” you rasped.

“Better,” he said loosening his grip and stepping back to admire you. You watched him drink in your appearance, as he had requested, noticed his tongue slide teasingly across his lips. “Did you do everything I asked?”

Shame was left behind now. “Oh yes, Daddy, _everything_.” You couldn’t help but bite your lip, drop your tone to a husky whisper, eyes alight with mischief as his hand glided up your bare thigh and under your skirt to verify your claim. Rough fingers skimmed across your already soaked cunt, coercing a hoarse moan from you.

“Good girl, such a good girl.” He withdrew his hand and you pined and ached for its return, much as you liked his praise, your need to confess overtook you.

“But Daddy, I haven’t been a good girl at all,” you blurted out.

“No?” he questioned, “you’d better tell me what you did.” You could see the amusement fighting at the corner of his mouth, like you had handed him a perfect gift.

“I couldn’t help it,” you chewed you lip hard, wide eyed trying to look innocent, looking incredibly guilty. “I was all wet and I just had to touch myself.”

“Where?” he growled.

“There,” you gestured with your eyes, slipping your own hand downwards, picking at the hem of your skirt. You looked up, open-mouthed, awaiting reaction. He said nothing and turned away silently. The pause was intolerable, it made you squirm and unsure of what he wanted from you next, so you waited.

Still ignoring you he pulled the chair out and took painstaking care to straighten it. He didn’t look at you, back turned he patted the seat and barked a solitary command, “sit.”

You did so without question or reply. Out of habit you sat with in a dignified manner, legs together and with upright posture. He shook his head and forcefully pushed your knees apart, until each leg was hooked over the arms of the chair, as far removed from dignified as you could be seated.

“Show me,” his next command.

Your mouth opened, but only a wordless breath came out.

“Show your Daddy what you did, I need to know just how wicked you’ve been.” He grinned with devilish delight. You tried to look wounded and worried at the request, deep down you revelled in it.

“Go on, show me what you did.”

You needed no further instruction, instead returning your fingers to your drenched, hot, open cunt, exercising as much restraint as you were capable of, knowing you could tip yourself over the edge all too quickly. You toyed at the swollen nub of nerves, your eyes fixed on him. Being watched made it all the more intense. He battled to maintain his displeased expression, but you could read him so easily, the slackening of his jaw, the heavy-lidded eyes, you upped your pace, let out soft, guttural moans certain he would fall apart at any moment. A first tentative finger wound its way up inside you, followed rapidly by a second, then a third, your own slender digits failing to give you the feeling of fullness and completeness you now craved. The rise and fall of his chest grew sharper, you let your moans grow louder, partly a creative choice and partly an involuntary response. You could see the outline of his now fully hard cock pressing uncomfortably for release from his tight pants. It only made you ache to be filled more, but you couldn’t resist. You had to push him.

“Oh Daddy, I’m so sorry I’m such a bad girl, I’m so sorry.”

It was too much, he snapped back into command and before you could take it in your hand was dragged away, leaving you empty and unfulfilled. You had been scooped up and found yourself slumped, face-down across his lap, skirt bunched up at your waist, bare bottom in the air being spanked. Each slap across your exposed bottom came harder than the last, sometimes in rapid succession, sometimes with drawn out intermissions, the wait making you catch your breath. It was relentless, but each stinging sensation only made you more excited, though it hardly seemed possible, even wetter than before. When you tried to grind against his knee for the delicious friction you longed for, he would hold you still, censure you for further disobedience. Then it stopped. Suddenly, without warning.

You found yourself sobbing both from the acute sting and burning on your cheeks and in the desperate frustration and need between your legs. He was shushing you now, offering comfort, brushing away a single gloopy tear that rolled down your cheek.

“There, there, are you alright?” he asked softly.

You could only nod, your mouth too dry to form words.

“You know I don’t like having to do that, but you need to be a good girl.”

“I will,” you sighed, defeated, control fully relinquished.

He held you softly, at first his kiss gently brushing over your lips, bidding them to part for him. You complied weakly, allowing his tongue to slip over yours, melting into each other in a brief, but lovely moment of absolute tenderness. Your head swam as you lost yourself in the strength and scent of him, until he broke away.

“Show me you can be good, sweetheart,” he stroked your hair softly, “kneel down and close your eyes” You did it quickly, without hesitation. You kept your eyes tight shut, though you could hear him undressing. He lifted your chin.

“Beautiful,” he said, “my beautiful girl.” You felt him draw his thumb across your lips and instinctively waiting patiently for it to be replaced with something else. You kept your eyes closed until told otherwise, but willingly took him into your mouth as you felt the tip of his cock nudge against you. You took it in deeply and greedily, working your tongue around the head.

“Fuck, oh _fuck_ , slow down,” he almost howled, his grip winding into your hair, directing your biddable mouth as he wished. Lost in your own urgency you had almost forgotten he must be aching to be touched as much as you. You worked obediently, taking the thick, hard length of him in deep, then sliding slowly away, now seeking praise and reward.

“Good, so good, open your eyes sweetheart, look at me, look at your Daddy when you do that.”

You repressed a smirk of satisfaction. You knew your crimson lipstick was smudged across your face. You rejoiced in looking up at him barely hanging on, so close to coming apart, the salty taste of his come already present on your tongue.

“I need to fuck you, I need to.” He was pulling you to your feet, sweeping you up and throwing you down onto the bed. You let out a sharp cry as he buried himself inside you, met by his own needy groan. He was on top of you, propped up on his elbows, warm, wet kisses at your mouth and neck while his hard cock filled and stretched you, deep thrusts inside you followed by slow and teasing, almost complete withdrawal. It made you mewl and beg, bucking back to keep him there. He drew himself upright, kneeling between your legs, wetting his thumb to tease at your clit and bring you to the climax you longed for.

“Come for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you coming for me.” Between the relentless rhythm of his hips driving his cock into your tight cunt and the perfect circling on your clit, you couldn’t hold back if you wanted to. Your thighs quivered, and you clawed desperately at the sheets, panting hard until suddenly starved of oxygen, coming hard, your release.

“Say it for me, say it for me, please sweetheart, please, I need…” his voice was ragged and filled with needy urgency, but you knew what he wanted.

“Thank you, Daddy, thank you.”

He was done for, spilling into you with his final thrusts, letting out a deep cry as he finished.

You both came down slowly, neither in a hurry to roll away, until finally he collapsed, spent and exhausted on the bed beside you. You couldn’t help but let a little laugh escape.

“Something funny?” he asked flicking your now unravelling pigtail.

“No, I just didn’t really expect my day to take this turn.”

“But you liked it?” he knew the answer but still had a hopeful tone.

“Yes, don’t ask me why, but yes. Anything else you would like to share?” you traced your finger across his chest, it was warm and dampened with a thin sheen of sweat. He laid back blissfully, eyes closed a soft dreamy smile across his face. He opened one eye.

“Oh I think its your turn, don’t you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned on another chapter, but here it is...
> 
> Sarah Caulfield, Easter Egg spotter who is spookily on my wavelength wanted handcuffs, well here they are, hun. Enjoy x  
> Filthy smut-filled chapter. Definitely un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own.  
> Shout out to a dear, old friend IRL who I promised I would credit for their filthy turn of phrase. 
> 
> Still pretending to be sorry to favourite fitties, can still do pigtails and travel, just pm me on ff.net and we'll sort it out pet ;)
> 
> I own nothing, make no money...blah,blah,blah
> 
> Enjoy filth fiends! x

A sudden, tight grip on your arm was dragging you into a dimly lit access corridor. An arm on your shoulder steered you against the wall and held you there with force, your back to your assailant. Eyes widened in shock, you struggled and squirmed against the hard body pressed against you. Identifying it as strong and male, your breath quickened in fear. Now pinned by his weight, a hand covered your mouth to prevent you from crying out and summoning help. You gripped and clawed at it, trying to free yourself.

Alarm dissipated, and your mouth curled into a satisfied smirk beneath the hand that was silencing you. The masculine scent of the man behind you was both familiar and alluring. Tensed muscles in your shoulders relaxed, and you pushed back against the hard figure behind you. You stopped battling against an unknown attacker and surrendered to your Captain’s will. 

His warm breath on your ear drew a shiver of excitement, as he teased and nipped at your ear lobe. Knees already weakened, you pressed your palms flat to the wall to steady yourself and to gain enough purchase to permit you to grind your arse into his already obvious erection. Recognising the slight shift in his breathing, you pushed back harder this time. He shushed you and slowly slid his hand away from your mouth. Instead he wound his fingers into your hair and yanked your head back. 

“Have you been a good girl?” he rasped.

“Yes, Daddy.”

His free hand was now pressed between your thighs making you all the more conscious of the growing heat and ache building there.  
“Oh sweetheart, you always want it so badly. Tell me you want it.”

You let out a soft moan. “Yes, I want it, Daddy.”

He laughed wickedly, tugging harder at your hair and roughly forcing his hand into your trousers, first stroking through your dampened knickers, then working inside them to tease at your already moist opening. 

You whimpered. 

“Is that nice, sweetheart?” 

You found yourself nodding, exhaling deeply. “Yes,” you said barely able to force out words. His finger slid into you urgently, as he was pressing his hard cock into your arse. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” you teased. 

Fingers unwound from your hair and he took his hand away from you, leaving you panting with a pounding ache between your legs. He turned you towards him, cupping your face in his hands.

“That’s enough for now. Good, good girl.” His low whisper in your ear once more. “Good things come to good girls who wait,” he said, looking into your eyes.

“Can I touch?” you pleaded. 

Your request was carefully considered. 

“Yes,” he said firmly, “but you aren’t allowed to come. Tease all you want, but I forbid you from coming without Daddy’s permission.”

You pouted at him, begging for a reprieve, certain you would not be afforded one. His eyes bored into your soul.

“Embrace it. Lose yourself in it, want it, take pleasure in the ache. Imagine how good it will feel when I do allow it,” he paused studying your face, his thumb tracing idly over your lips. “Imagine how much it would please your Daddy if you do as you are told and you do want to please your Daddy, don’t you?”  
You nodded feebly, and he kissed you softly, the faintest trace of his tongue across your lips only serving to remind you of your need. Much as you thought of yourself as a strong, independent woman, he could turn you to mush with a look. 

“Back to work,” he said coolly, patting your arse as he steered you back in the direction you were heading when he intercepted you. 

 

You saw him once more that day, as you drudged through your shift. The sight of him approaching made your cunt twitch and you tried to suppress your visible excitement at the idea of sharing a lift. Standing upright, waiting patiently for the doors to close, it was hard not to chew at your lower lip.  
Once in privacy, he wasted no time raking you into his arms, his tongue possessively claiming your mouth, hands stroking at the curve of your arse. Already in a heightened state of arousal, you were lost in a second, moaning wantonly and wriggling against his thigh demanding respite. 

“Enough,” he barked, making space between you.

“Did you touch yourself yet?” 

“Not yet.” 

“You must be so uncomfortable, all that aching for me.”

You had no reply and could only stare blankly.

“Remember what you I told you. No coming and begging to be forgiven. That’s not how this works.”

The lift came to a stop and he disembarked with barely a nod of acknowledgement. 

 

In the safety of your quarters, your attention was fully consumed by the lust you had been trying to contain all day. It was unbearable, the hot, urgent throb of it radiated in your damp knickers. You allowed your thoughts to wander, even though the journey led you to dark places, your mind was no longer in control. Instead you were driven by your cunt. The want inside you was almost painful. Squeezing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to sate your need no longer brought relief. Laid face down on the bed, you allowed your own fingers to slip between your slickened folds. Attuned to the rhythms and needs of your own body you could effortlessly find the right amount of pressure to stroke at your swollen clit. The hours of throbbing made it almost painful to touch, yet you were compelled to continue. Letting out a deep sigh, you were ready to allow yourself to succumb, so tempted by the release you could so quickly bring about. Your chest pounded. You wanted and craved his hot, greedy tongue lapping and sucking at your clit. Each twitch grew sharper and more pronounced; you were coming close. Eyes closed, you visualised the sweet release he would give you; warm waves of joy spreading through your body as your orgasm would gush into his hungry mouth. The voice of temptation to allow yourself to come grew louder. It whispered that you could confess and accept your punishment. He had already pre-empted that ploy. Biting down on the pillow you vented your frustration and stifled your cries. You could lie and tell him you had followed his instructions; how would he ever know? Dismissing it, you snatched your own hand away and allowed yourself to recover. The desire to be obedient and the thrill of your own agony were more powerful than the urge for a swift release.

“Fuck,” you groaned through gritted teeth, quietly impressed by the self-control you had found amongst desperation. 

Your breathing slowed, you returned your fingers to your open, aching cunt, curling them inside yourself, alternating between languid and slow and harder, more rapid strokes, mimicking the delicious rhythms Gabriel would make when he ended your torment and fucked you. It was easy to picture him moving gracefully inside you. The pleasure started to rise again. Questioning your ability to hold back again, you stilled yourself, feeling the throbbing pulse of your clenching walls. Finally, you withdrew completely. 

You turned over onto your back. The relish you found in your torment was unexpected, your ability to restrain yourself even more of a surprise. 

 

By the third day you were consumed. Each time you touched yourself you pushed yourself as close as you dare, challenging your ability to stop. You revelled in the anguish of the omnipresent dull ache that occasionally spiked sharply. Each time you saw him it renewed your need. If the opportunity presented itself, he would find a way to spark your lust and remind you of your denial. Always subtle, a slight touch, a wicked glint in his eye, obscenities whispered in rare empty spaces. You started to crave it; you lived for it. It took every ounce of control to hold it together when he enquired about the progress of your ‘project’ in front of others. His meaning was clear to you.

“I’ve been unable to reach a conclusion, as yet,” you replied expressionlessly, observing carefully for reaction. It was unseen by anyone else, but you noticed him swallow harder and his jaw clench fleetingly.

Finally, you were called to him. Following your routine you entered in silence, dressed yourself appropriately in the bathroom and fixed your hair as he preferred. Careful not to look to him, you positioned yourself on your knees, eyes down and waited for attention.

Gabriel crouched down in front of you, lifting your chin until your eyes met his. 

“My good girl,” he purred, “beautiful girl.”

His approval made you smile. 

“Come to Daddy,” he said drawing you to your feet. 

His lips barely brushed yours, extracting a soft sigh and his fingers made their way under your skirt, over your inner thighs, already made sticky with your juices until he found the height of your want pooling between your legs. 

You cried out at his gentle touch.

“Is this what you’ve been waiting for, sweetheart, what you’ve been aching for. It must have been torture. My poor baby, suffering.”

You stood patiently, barely able to breathe and quivering as he slowly and carefully undressed you, acquiescing to every request to aid his task. He led you silently, by the hand to the bed and commanded you to sit, signalling to the edge of the bed. Leaving only for a moment, he returned with a set of handcuffs. Roughly dragging your arms behind your back he bound your wrists together.

“Don’t be frightened, sweetheart,” that soft, Southern drawl more pronounced than usual.

Pushing your legs apart he settled on the floor between them, pining you down at your ankles, completing the feeling of captivity. His mouth trailed up your leg; the anticipation was killing you. 

“Is it aching bad? Tell me, tell Daddy all about it. How you touched yourself for me. Was it hard to stop? You did stop didn’t you?” he said.

“I did. I need to…I wanted to, but I stopped. I did I stopped like you asked.” 

Pausing, Gabriel looked up at you, holding your gaze for a second before his tongue grazed your cunt. You squealed in delight. 

“Why did you stop?”

You swallowed down, fighting for composure, losing the ability to think and speak coherently.

“Because you told me to.”

The answer was rewarded with a longer, slower lick.

“And?”

“I wanted to. I wanted to be a good girl for my Daddy and...”

The broad, controlled strokes against your clit made you mewl and want to buck. Your movement making you more aware of the cold, metal restraints binding your hands together. 

“Go on,” he urged.

“I fucking loved it.”

His mouth did all you had imagined when you touched yourself, every bit as greedy as you wanted it to be. You were close so quickly, unsure if you wanted to will yourself to release, or hold on to the pleasure as long as you could. Impatient cries gave you away. Sensing your mounting excitement, he stopped and without a word left you perched at the end of the bed, too confined to do anything to finish what he had started. 

He left you there for what seemed like forever, pouring himself a drink, ignoring your presence completely. 

“Please, I can’t stand it, please.”

He scowled at you.

“Please, Daddy, please. I’ll do anything, but please.” You sobbed desperately.

“Anything?”

You nodded enthusiastically. At this moment in time you absolutely would. 

Returning to his position between you legs, he took your clit into his mouth, sucking harder as the volume of your uncontrolled cries rose. 

He stopped only once more to repeat his question. “Anything?”

“Yes, fuck, yes, please let me come.”

Taking you at your word, his face buried in your soaked cunt he finally brought you to orgasm. Days of denial and pent up desire rushed out of you in powerful waves. Every ache and throb uncoiling as you screamed for him, vision blurred, fighting for oxygen: a hot mess. 

Head rested on your thigh, he allowed you to come back down to Earth, the only sound in the room was your ragged breath and your heart was thumping so heavily you were certain you could hear the sound your blood pumping. When he finally looked up, you were suddenly aware of a solitary tear rolling down your cheek.

“Good?” he asked with an expression of concern, wiping away the salty tear.

“Good,” you said hoarsely. 

The tilt of your head told him you wanted to be kissed and he obliged, his tongue gliding over yours, the scent and taste of your own cunt still fresh. Crooking his hand behind your head, he gently eased you down onto the bed, your kiss still unbroken. Then, with as much dignity as you could maintain, he rolled you over onto your stomach. You turned your head to watch him undress. Although he seemed in no particular hurry, you couldn’t help but observe his hands trembled just a little. You could imagine what the ‘anything’ he wanted was now, at least you suspected you knew. Seeing how much he wanted it gave you an unexpected rush of power.  
You made a satisfied noise as he freed his thick, hard cock. Having ached to feel it inside you for days, you felt relief that it would be soon. Gabriel positioned himself on the bed beside you, and temporarily freed you from your shackles. He re-secured your wrists together above your head, before his fingers drew invisible lines down your back with increasing pressure. His tongue retraced those lines with painful, teasing slowness, to the end of your spine. It didn’t stop. Instead his hands parted your cheeks and he made his way between the soft crease, his tongue making teasing circles.

“Yes,” was all you could cry as you tried to make sense of the physical sensation and the emotional response to an act, both perverse and dirty, yet loving and intimate at the same time. When he stopped you could hear his breath was short and hitched.

“This,” he barely said, “I want this.” He tentatively pressed at the tight opening.

“Take it.”

Grabbing two pillows, he pushed them underneath you to prop you up a little. You felt his cock brush across your arse. He stroked himself against the slickness of your cunt and angled himself inside you, You moaned for him, having longed to have him filling you like this, but it was no longer what you pined for, you wanted what he wanted. His finger found that other way inside you and he nervously tested you. A sharp moan gave him the signal to proceed. 

Squirming against him, you relished the new sensation.

“Fuck me like that, please fuck me like that.”

The rhythm of his hips was unchanged, his finger still probed at your arse.

“Please, Daddy, fuck me like that.”

He was lost to it now, control shredded by your pleas. His cock nudging at your arse. You briefly wondered how the fuck it could possibly fit, but by then he had pushed into you. 

“So tight, so fucking tight,” he murmured.

Gently at first, he pushed further, stilling himself and allowing you to adjust. It was indescribable, something blurred between agony and ecstasy, an unnatural but perfect union, and you were certain you wanted more. 

It played out like this until he was fully inside you and he started to move back and forth. You winced a little and he stopped.

“I can take it, fuck me please.”

“Good girl.”

Each thrust grew firmer, he withdrew further only to push back in. Harder, more rapid strokes, were spurred on by the sounds you made. You had never felt so full, both dirty and beautiful in the same breath. You managed to turn your head enough to see his face, teeth gritted, barely hanging on. It was doubtful you had ever seen him quite so wild and uncontrolled. Usually you were the one falling apart in front of your restrained, dominant lover. 

His fingers, curled underneath you, found your clit and pushed you close to orgasm, until you broke. The overwhelming feeling of fullness and the idea that his hard cock was roughly fucking your arse sent you over the edge. Screaming his name, you came undone. He wasn’t far behind, violent grunts, profanity and your name running into each other as he came in you with a sharp jerk.

He undid your restraints, brushing the red marks on your wrists gently, before collapsing on the bed beside you and you curled into him, resting your head on his damp chest.

“Sweetheart,” he said.

“Mm hmm,” you replied idly.

“Nothing.”

“It’s alright. I know.” 

Planting a kiss on your head was his only reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts welcome.  
> If you liked this, please check out my other fics!


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